Sabotage
by black.k.kat
Summary: "Whatever you say next had better be the truth, or I'm going to tell Kanda that you're the reason his morning soba is buried under six inches of goo."


For **HappyCamper27** , happy birthday!

* * *

"Someone _sabotaged_ my kitchen!"

Instantly, a deathly hush falls across the cafeteria in the wake of Jerry's anguished cry. Reever, who had been hoping for a quiet day to finally catch up on some of his paperwork, just barely strangles a groan, stopping dead in the doorway and kneading his forehead.

Given the way Komui crawled out of bed this morning before dawn, snickering loudly to himself, Reever can guess the culprit.

"What?!"

That's Allen's voice, and half a beat behind it is Kanda's outraged, "What the hell do you mean?"

Slowly, quietly, Reever starts his retreat.

"Someone stole my coffee pots!" Jerry wails, "and they covered my storerooms in goo!"

Only one culprit springs to mind, and Reever sighs in exasperation. Over the horrified screeching of the scientists present, he turns on his heel and picks up his pace, heading for Komui's office.

At least, he tells himself with limited success, it's not another Komurin.

Komui's door is closed, but that means little. It's also locked, but Reever learned how to pick locks from Allen a few days after the boy first arrived, and those skills have served him well. He has the door open in a few seconds, and nudges it inward with one shoulder.

"They're going to murder you," he says exasperatedly. "You know that, don't you?"

"Reever!" Komui yelps, lunging to hide the decanter of coffee sitting perched on top of a teetering stack of papers. Well-versed in this game, Reever darts in, plucking it out of range. He, at least, got enough sleep last night, and his reflexes aren't suffering for it.

"You're ridiculous," he tells his boyfriend, rolling his eyes pointedly.

Half-sprawled over the top of his desk, paper cascading off in an avalanche, Komui pouts at him and makes grabby-hands at the pot. "That's the last one in the castle!" he bemoans. "Noooooo."

Unbelievable. "There would be more if you hadn't _wrecked the kitchens_ ," Reever retorts. "I'm not going to save from Jerry."

Komui has enough sense to blanche at that, though he makes some attempt to look dignified as he slides back to his feet and pushes his beret into place. "Jerry," he says firmly, "will respect my decision as Chief Officer when I tell him that coffee is now banned for the health and safety of the staff."

Incredulous, Reever crosses his arms over his chest, coffeepot dangling precariously from one finger. "Jerry might," he allows, and it's a _very_ slim possibility that depends wholly on how much charm Komui can turn on the cook and how many crocodile tears Allen cries into the man's apron over the lack of breakfast. "But the Science Division? They're going to _gut_ you and take their chances with the Akuma."

Komui straightens his glasses with great dignity, though Reever's pretty sure he can see him starting to sweat. "Coffee increases the body's acidity, and it leads to dehydration, negatively affects the liver, blocks serotonin, causes cancer—"

"Bullshit," Reever says precisely. "The Science Division would be dead twenty times over if that were true. What is this really about?" When Komui opens his mouth, Reever gives him a look. "Whatever you say next had better be the truth, or I'm going to tell Kanda that you're the reason his morning soba is buried under six inches of goo."

Komui is visibly sweating now, and he takes a step around his desk, most pathetic expression firmly plastered on his face, arms spread like he's going to lunge for a hug. "Reever, you _wouldn't_. Did you forget that we have plans tonight? If I'm dead, I won't be able to do that thing with my—"

"Shut up!" Reever hisses, and his face is burning but if he gives ground now it's the same as a surrender. "You have three seconds. One—"

This time Komui really does throw himself headlong at Reever, slamming into him at waist-height and shoving his face into Reever's lab coat. "I'll never let anyone marry Lenalee!" he wails.

Reever, who only just managed to catch the coffeepot before it crashed down onto Komui's ridiculous head, blinks in mute shock for a moment. Then the words register, and he groans. "No one is marrying Lenalee yet," he says, and this argument is practically rote by now. They've had it at least once a week since Reever transferred here. "She's focused on fighting Akuma, not—"

"You didn't _hear them_ ," Komui sobs into Reever's coat. "Those horrible, filthy, disgusting _men_! They were saying that they'd marry Lenalee _for her coffee_!"

Oh god. There is no way Reever is paid enough to deal with this. Even if he and Komui have been living together for the last year, there is _nothing_ that can make up for this man's sheer absurdity.

With a sigh, he sets the coffee pot aside, catching a faint scuffle from outside the office door. Leaning down, he cups Komui's face in his hands, kisses him quickly and lightly, and then pries his hands off and steps away.

"What?" Komui asks, sounding baffled.

"A goodbye kiss," Reever tells him, not entirely sure whether he should pity the man or stick with the mercilessness granted by a distinct lack of coffee. He reclaims the pot, sidesteps Komui's grab, and opens the door.

Komui's face pales to the color of a corpse at the sight of the entirety of the Science Division, most of the kitchen staff, and a good half of the exorcists all looming like furious reapers just outside of his office.

"Oh, Brother," Lenalee sighs, pressing a hand over her face as the hungry mob surges past her.

Reever, safely out of the way, offers her his arm with a commiserating smile and brandishes the coffeepot. "Care for a cup?"

Lenalee casts him an amused glance, but slips her hand around his elbow nevertheless. "Of course," she says with the faintly evil cheer that makes her Reever's favorite. Or, well, maybe he's slightly biased on that front, given how he feels about her brother.

"Reever, _saaave meeeee_!" Komui wails, and a scrabbling hand catches the edge of the doorframe. Komui manages to haul himself partway out of the mob, but before he can do more than wave desperately he's dragged back under.

On second thought, Lenalee is his favorite in _spite_ of Komui.

"I have some mugs in my room," Lenalee proposes brightly.

"That sounds perfect," Reever agrees, and lets her lead him away.


End file.
